Players were making mistakes, their tired minds unable to keep up with their still-beating hearts.
A simple pass from Inter's midfield went straight out of play.
A promising Lazio attack ended when a winger accidentally tripped over his own feet.
"They are zombies!" the commentator cackled. "Zombies in very expensive football boots! But they are our zombies, and we love them!"
On the sideline, Coach Chivu was a caged lion.
His immaculate suit was rumpled, his hair was a mess, and he was screaming instructions that were being completely lost in the wall of noise.
And then, in the 85th minute, in the heart of the beautiful, ugly chaos, Lazio produced a moment of sublime, heartbreaking genius.
The ball was worked to their creative maestro, Luis Alberto, about 25 yards from goal. He was surrounded by the tired, desperate blue and black shirts of Inter. He had no time, no space. But he didn't need it.
He saw the run of Ciro Immobile, a ghosting movement towards the near post.
